The Rosalina Project
by Retronym
Summary: Geneticist Robin Burnell has many personal problems to handle. Talked out of his certainty that he was too defective to find love, he makes the Wife Project to help him find The One. To his dismay, he falls for a woman who just so happens to break every rule he's created for perfection. An adventure follows for poor Robin. (Fuller summ. on profile, important disclaimers inside)
1. 1) One Habitual Evening

**IMPORTANT DISCLAIMERS, THEN IMPORTANT A/N. ACTUALLY, YOU SHOULD JUST ALWAYS READ THE A/N'S. THEY HAVE IMPORTANT STUFF. BUT READ THESE DISCLAIMERS FIRST.**

 **1) CONCERNING MENTAL ILLNESS: So a major focus of this story is mental illness. Being a romcom (lol), they will sometimes have comedic effect on the story. THIS IS NOT TO MAKE A JOKE OF OBESSIVE COMPULSIVE, AUTISTIC SPECTRUM DISORDERS, OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WILL BE FEATURED. MENTAL ILLNESS IS A REAL AND SERIOUS ISSUE. Also, these disorders manifest themselves in a variety of ways, and this is the particular case of one Robin Burnell. If you feel I'm not representing something accurately, please respectfully enlighten me in the comments or PM me.**

 **2) CONCERNING MY INSPIRATION: If you are a fan of the novel The Rosie Project, sorry, this has nothing to do with it. I basically just saw the description and this story idea popped up. It is inspired by it, but is not based off of it. I have yet to read is and probably will after I finish this story. Characters, plot, everything will be different. Cheers!**

 **And guess what?! I don't own Nintendo or the Rosie Project. Bummer.**

 **Never did I think I'd be writing a romance, but this is also a tale of friendship, internal struggles, mental illness, willpower and helping oneself, expectations and empowerment, insert more cliché. I hope our main pair grows on you. Let us follow poor inept Robin's adventure as this dumb crush causes so much trouble. Here is the first (kinda long) chapter of The Rosalina Project.**

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, skip this step, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, he was up the stairs.

One, two, three, four, five, six footsteps, he was at his door.

Robin Burnell took out his keys with a heavy sigh, inserting them into the lock. It had been an exhausting day, and all he wanted to do was retreat into the controlled safety of his home. He walked into his apartment, hanging his keys on their specified hook just inside the doorway. A voice called from the room down the hall, catching him off guard. "Robin, is that you?"

"Y-yes!" he called back. He turned and entered the sitting room where his best friend sat on the couch, watching television. Lucina was staying at his residence for the time being while she tried to secure a home for herself. She'd always had rather bad luck with getting a house. Sudden changes in plans, landlords, and freak weather incidents had kept her out of a permanent home for a couple months now. While it was difficult for her and her career, they kept in fairly good spirits about it, her unfortunate luck becoming a bit of a running joke.

"You're back early," speculated Robin as casually as possible.

"The meeting ended early," Lucina responded. "A couple people had places to be, and we realized there wasn't much we could accomplish without them." She said this with distaste, as though annoyed that these people apparently had more important things to do. "The whole thing was a disaster anyway. Nimble-fingered Lissa spilled tea all over Link…and I think that was the highlight of the meeting." The two laughed, but then Lucina became serious again, narrowing her intelligent eyes. "And why are _you_ back early? I thought you said you'd be home at nine."

Robin just gazed at his feet at the dreaded question, shuffling around like a child who knows they're about to be scolded. Lucina could have that effect sometimes. "Well, I…left."

"Robin!" Lucina reproved him in frustrated tones. "You promised you would not bail early this time!"

"It was for the best. It wasn't going to work out."

"How many times must I remind you, it's just the first date! What was wrong with her this time?"

"She was too sporadic, and her voice was much too loud…"

"And?" Lucina knew him very well.

"…her hair was asymmetrical," admitted Robin. Lucina gave a long sigh out her nose. "It was really bad this time!" Robin defended himself. "I had to look at it the whole time. If you had to deal with it, you would have left too. She was intimidating." It had been simply impossible to stand, scratching and grating at the inside of his skull at the very reminder of the abomination that was her hair. The combination of that and the feeling that their personalities clashed awkwardly seemed to slowly suffocate him until he just stood up and left the restaurant in a state of complete panic, telling the already baffled woman that he had to "go do a thing with some people". He then proceeded to stand on a street corner a few blocks away, panting and counting each breath as passersby gave him strange looks. He was more than ready to immediately put the overwhelming experience behind him, and hoped he never had to cross paths with that woman again.

Thinking back on it, she was probably rather pissed.

"Robin, you have to learn to handle it," Lucina insisted yet again. "If you are serious about your relations with people, you need to let those things go. I still believe that you should think about talking to Luke, even just once. Just try. He's good at what he does."

Dr. Lucario Arveda was a friend of Lucina's, and he was also an occupational therapist. Robin knew that Lucina was just concerned about him, but he didn't want to have to go through any that. It seemed like a waste of time like that would serve only to detract from his busy job. He didn't feel that any of his concerns warranted foolish counseling of any kind. On top of that, he felt almost…afraid? Afraid of the change, perhaps, as though he were letting go of something that was deeply a part of him. Additionally, Lucario was intimidating and Robin had little desire to interact with him, thus leading him to conclude there would be no net gain from any such "sessions".

"Lucina, it's fine," responded Robin mechanically, the same way he always did. "It is not a big deal, I can handle it." He _was_ an adult, a scientist at that; he could solve his own problems. He did not need to be treated like a child.

Lucina looked irritated for a moment more, but she then just sighed and shook her head. "What are we going to do with you?" she asked rhetorically. Robin gave a wan smile and a shrug, but he wondered if Lucina knew how often he asked himself that very question. Looking at it objectively, he was getting on well enough, with a home, a job he loved, but at the same time…

Now that he had finished conversing, he became aware of the familiar tug that seemed to come from both his head and his gut, filling him with tension. His feet spun around and prepared to head back for the door, almost on their own accord, as his mind was preoccupied by wondering if he had-

"Yes, I'm sure you locked it," Lucina said sharply, interrupting him. "I heard you do it. Come back in here, Jeopardy's on now."

Robin wasn't so sure, but Lucina's voice was a command. Why did she have to be so good at commanding? He forced himself to turn and walk away from the doorway, instead shuffling back and gazing out the window that bathed his face in orange city light.

"Aren't you going to sit with me?" questioned Lucina. Robin shook his head blandly. His housemate frowned, but did not question further. If he did not want to watch Jeopardy, then he must really be upset. And that he was; freaking out in public always made him feel ashamed, sick, unclean, like he was some kind of strange and wild specimen occupying his own little world that people on the outside looked upon with nonunderstanding. Feelings of shame, however, only seemed to feed his behavior. He often tried to formulate plans, hypotheses, solutions in his head, but there was nothing to measure besides the counting of his own steps, his own breath, no logic to unravel. Maybe if he could just-

 _Knock knock knock._

Robin nearly leapt out of his skin at the rapping on the door. He jumped even harder when, before he could even move toward it, the door was opened straight up by the visitor who didn't even wait to be answered and who sang in a slightly raspy voice, "Hello!"

Robin's brain recognized the voice after a second, and made sure to shut down the heart attack that he was about to have. He let out a gigantic breath, remembering the appointment he had made, and strode to the door to greet the electrician.

Pikachu had the appearance of one who had their finger perpetually stuck in a socket. His fluffy blond hair stuck out oddly in many places, and he moved in a rather twitchy manner. His cheeks were rosy and childlike, and his slightly sleepy eyes had a small twinkle in their dark recesses. Despite his child's face, he walked like there was something weighing on his shoulders, like an older man might. Robin was not entirely sure of Pikachu's age, but it had to be somewhere in his early twenties. His hands were very hyperactive; if not working, he was almost always messing with something in his fingers. Today, he was fiddling with a spare spring from who-knows-where in one hand while the other still gripped the doorknob of the open door. Robin always had a hard time not looking at his hands.

"…Come in," Robin muttered, more as a formality seeing as Pikachu was already pretty much in the apartment.

"You've forgotten I was coming, didn't ya?" guessed Pikachu, his eyes glittering playfully.

"Yes," sighed Robin with resignation. "I'll show you where the problem is."

"Right-o, Robbie," agreed Pikachu, following him into the kitchen. Under normal circumstances, Robin would threaten to expel whoever called him "Robbie" from whatever establishment they were residing in, but Pikachu somehow managed to get away with it. Robin couldn't determine if he would even react to any threat or order given to him anyway.

Robin led him into the dark kitchen, which was lit only by a flickering candle on the counter, and explained the problem with his light, giving a wry smile as Pikachu laughed about his attempt to fix it himself. While Pikachu was examining the light switch, Robin quickly slid out of the kitchen to where Lucina was pacing, now talking on her phone.

" _You told me the door was locked,_ " he hissed quietly. He was more irritated at the untruth than anything.

Lucina stopped walking. "Sorry, Pal, hold on a moment…" She turned to Robin. "Yes I did, because I knew Pikachu was coming, and you need some exposure. You can't always be checking the door, you are going to wear your feet off. You're just in a jumpy mood because of the date."

Robin yelped indignantly. "I don't need- !" Lucina gave him a serious look, stuck one finger into her ear to block him out and moved into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her to carry on her conversation, leaving a huffing Robin with Pikachu and the busted light fixture.

"So, you were on a date, were ya?" asked Pikachu as he opened his tool bag, his eyebrows wiggling as he stole a glance up at the scientist. Robin shrugged. "By the loosest definition, yes." He was slightly irritated that these people were so keen on the subject. Couldn't they see he was trying to consciously block the event from his memory? Of course not.

"Didn't go so well, did it?" said Pikachu knowledgably. "Ah well. Happens to all of us…but I sure hope it doesn't happen to me tomorrow." His voice took up a confidential tone as he leaned in towards Robin. "I got one myself, see."

"Oh, really? With whom?" Again, Robin was not really in the mood to discuss dates, but he was not rude enough to shut Pikachu down when he seemed so excited about this advancement.

"Really nice girl who works in that music store down the street," the electrician informed sheepishly. "'Name's Jigglypuff."

Robin smiled distractedly at him as he rummaged for a wrench in his bag. "Let's see…three eighths…one half, no…thirteen sixteenths?" Robin nearly choked on his own saliva as Pikachu pulled the wrench out of his bag and surveyed it. He was overwhelmed with the urge to knock the accursed tool right out of the blonde's hand, or else suffer unknowable concequences. But what had he said to Lucina? _It is not a big deal. I can handle it._ He was fully capable of solving this alone. Use what he knew, and disown the notion with fact. _This wrench is no more dangerous than any of the other wrenches just because it has thirteen in the name. It's just a number. I just…_ But he couldn't make himself believe words that felt so empty. To his dismay, he was already enveloped by the whirlwind of breathless and sickly fear.

Just as he was surely about to go berserk and either send the wrench into the wall or run out of the building (or perhaps, preferably, both), Pikachu observed the fixture and concluded, "No, not this one…" He placed it back in the bag. Robin let out a breath of relief, but he kept his guard up; he wouldn't feel at ease until that bag was out of his apartment (really, he was ashamed of himself for being concerned with anything so ungrounded in logic, but could not help feeling like he needed to acknowledge the thoughts anyway, as though if he didn't they'd come back around and bite him. It really was quite tiring feeling ashamed).

In the meantime, Pikachu had found the right sized wrench and taken the panel off the wall, revealing a patch of wires and clips inside. He poked around for a bit. Robin watched his hands. Pikachu's brow furrowed. "Dang, what in the name of the lord did ya do back here? Rob, you are one smart fella, but you can't fix a light for crap. Do us a favor next time, and just call us first." He muttered and moved some stuff around in the wall for a few minutes. During this time, Robin made himself some tea with tense hands, keeping one eye on the tool bag containing the wrench, and by the time he finished preparing it Pikachu had gotten to the problem.

"Ah, here we go." The electrician got out some clippers and snipped off a wire with a clip attached to the end, pulling it out of the mess. "See, this one ain't compatible, not the same type of wire as the rest…"

Pikachu rummaged a bit more in his bag, getting out a length of wire and a new clip to replace the old one. Robin flicked the light switch up and down a couple times, showing that the light went on and off without any of the previous zapping and crackling it had before it busted. Satisfied, Pikachu scribbled the name of the metal and the thickness of the operational wire and stuck it to Robin's refrigerator ("in case you decide to ignore me and try to fix stuff up yourself again"). He tossed the old wire into the trash and Robin paid him for his help. As Pikachu headed for the door, Robin called to him, "Good luck with Jigglypuff!"

Pikachu's already rosy cheeks went even redder. "Thanks, Rob." He then departed, practically chirping. Robin remained sitting in the kitchen, gazing at the old discarded wire in the trash bin, lost in thought as Alex Trebeck announced a Daily Double in the next room. Pikachu was younger than him. He seemed to have found himself a partner that he was genuinely excited to see. Lots of people he knew had partners, actually. Truly, they made it look incredibly easy, miraculously bumping up against their perfect match, a soul mate, the person who would love them no matter what and always stay and never walk away because their hair is asymmetrical or because they're hopelessly out of their mind.

Perhaps he was like that wire. It wasn't compatible with any of the rest in the wall, no matter what you did to it. Was it possible for someone to be incapable of finding love? Well, scientifically speaking, there was no reason why not. "Love" was not measurable; there was nothing to say that he wasn't just born hard-wired in a way that didn't accommodate it. If that were the case, it would therefore be entirely illogical to continue to waste his energy trying to obtain what everybody else had easily found. He didn't like to deal with the unmeasurable.

Robin blew out the candle, its purpose being fulfilled, and stood up from the table. He took his mug with him and placed it into the microwave. It had sat too long and lost its warmth while he thought to himself. No one likes a cold cup of tea.

 **So this chapter was a bit intense and obsessive-compulsive heavy. But I know I've had stressful nights like these where every urge and worry and impulse just comes flailing out and screaming. So thus far we can see our dear Robin has some of your standard counting and checking issues, and a problem with the number 13, which is surprisingly common. Poor little guy is heartbroken and stressed out. :( Then Lucina's just gotta live with his attempt to control all scary things. Pikachu's just there, bein' Pikachu.**

 **Tell me what you thought of this one, and next time we'll get to see Robin and what he sees as his only love: his job as a geneticist! And we'll see his...interesting coworkers Shulk and Yoshi. Thanks for making it this far down the page. Your face is beautiful! See you soon...?**


	2. 2) Meanwhile, With The Amoeba

**"SEE YOU SOON", THEY SAY, "I'LL UPDATE SOON", HA, WHAT LIES**

 **Anyways...I finally finished this chapter. And it's not even that exciting. *dodges rotten tomatoes* So anyway, we left off with Robin having an awful night, very stressful and such. I actually did a few small edits to that chapter, nothing major, but you may want to reread it anyway cause it's been so long. Today we get to see Robin at his much beloved job at the E. Gadd Genomics Research Center, or the EGGR Center (heehee, it says "egger"). Robin loves his job, and it's one of the places where he's less freaked out! But there's a problem there today: it's got blond hair, a British accent, and it's knocking shit over. I'll see if you can guess. I dunno if this chapter's very funny or exciting at all, but not all of them can be winners. Since we're inside of Robin's head, be prepared for lots of rambles about scientific gobbledegook. Apologies again. Anyways, here's Meanwhile, With the Amoeba.**

 **( sorry I needed to fix a thing in this chapter a couple days after I posted it, I don't know if it makes it go back up to the top of the page when you do that or not, so...if it does, oops. It's nothing important, carry on.)**

2\. Meanwhile, With The Amoeba

Late, late, late, late, late, late. Always late.

Robin flew out the door of the building, his jacket still only dangling from one arm as he attempted to pull it on while on the go. The rush of waking up ten minutes before he needed to be at work temporarily banished the heaviness from his eyes brought upon by the sleeplessness of last night. He had simply lay awake, his mind turning all the catastrophic events and circuitous emotions of the day over and over in a cycle (not to mention staring at the clock, calculating how much sleep he would get down to the minute if he fell asleep now…or now… or now…). He did eventually slip into unconsciousness, thinking to himself that tomorrow would be a new day.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn't really gotten enough sleep to even make this day feel distinguished from the last. His tardiness was not helped by the fact that not only had he overslept and redid the lock on his door six times, the first set of six had not felt good enough, as though they would not hold, leaving him still painfully restless. He ended up doing the whole thing another six times. As if he wasn't late enough.

He scurried across the road toward his parked car, not paying attention and causing a taxi to slam to a screeching halt to avoid him. The taxi driver gave a couple angry honks. Preoccupied, Robin just gave him a wave with the sleeve of his still-loose coat flapping around. All the driver gave him was an obscene gesture.

The leaves on the trees growing on street corners were beginning to turn yellow, a few orange ones drifting here and there as Robin drove to the lab. A few children were playing on the sidewalk, trying to catch the leaves as they waited for the school bus. It was the first morning where one could feel the slightest chill in the air as the city entered autumn. Robin was glad; he was more of a winter person. He liked the last remaining leaves that blew down the streets and the coziness that was inside during a cold day, with something warm to drink and maybe a nice book. He and Lucina had to agree on something, anyway.

He strode through the main entrance of the E. Gadd Genomics Research Center, trying not to act late but probably failing. He didn't look up even as he felt the intense gaze of Fi, the woman at the front desk, boring into him. Fi made him nervous. Very nervous. It was even harder to meet her eyes than it was to meet anyone else's.

"Hi, I'm here, what a particularly nice morning, yes?" said Robin in a single breath, and had already passed through the room before she could say anything. He began making toward his office, before remembering with a buzz of interest that they were working in the laboratory today. They were finally ready to collect the final data for their current project and synthesize the information gathered from the last few weeks.

See, on the grand hierarchy of Things That Matter to Robin Burnell, the number one spot was almost indisputably claimed by science (rivaled only by Lucina, but that he would never admit). Science was the way everything worked; principles, method, discovering, and unlike everything else it all made _sense_. Robin's brain was like a computer with a plethora of tabs open, and at least three of said tabs were devoted to science at any given time. Another benefit was that his job focused him, released his tension, and took his mind somewhat off uneven things and the ever-present possibilities of disaster. Not to say anything he kept in his lab was uneven or disastrous. His team knew very well the consequences of having a chaotic office space in Robin's presence.

Ah, his team. There were multiple research teams operating in the E. Gadd Genomics Research Center (which, as some genius had noticed, could be called EGGR Center, thus making everyone employed inside of it "eggers"), and it was yet to be decided if Robin's team of three was famous or infamous. At the time that their senior member Leon Powalski (they didn't talk much about Powalski) quit the job, the institution was struggling to stay afloat. After he left, there were only two young newbies, including Robin. Thus, Robin was hastily promoted to team leader, and the head of the EGGR Center recruited a college student on a paid internship and stuck him on their team in just as much haste. It was a stressful time. However, three months later the institution was going strong again with no threat of going under. And no one, including the intern that was now part of Robin's team, was giving any sign of leaving either.

So there they were. Some of their coworkers admired the efforts of their eclectic group. Others in the institution sometimes quipped that the manager of EGGR "shouldn't put all their cracked eggs in one basket." Perhaps not the most complimentary. But they completed their tasks with a very high rate of success and to great praise, so Robin gave approximately zero damns about criticisms on their productivity, maybe 0.3 damns if he was feeling generous.

Unfortunately, Robin could tell as soon as he entered the laboratory that today was going to be one of those days where he gave 0.3 damns.

Shulk Cooper, a young British scientist with a knack for smooth talking and ridiculous yet magnetic smiles, was simply vegetating on the outskirts of the room. His hair was a mess, at least more than normal, and his typically alert eyes were dull and indifferent to Robin's entrance.

Alternately, the other more animated inhabitant of the lab seemed to already be bored with waiting for their team leader, with no outlet to relieve his start-of-the-day energy. Yoshi was spinning around in a swivel chair in dangerous proximity to a laboratory computer, leaning his head back toward the ceiling and blowing strands of downy green hair out of his face.

"I'm here, I'm here," muttered Robin as he hurried in, almost to himself.

"Yes!" Yoshi celebrated, leaping up out of the chair as it was still spinning. It went flying across the room and banged into the wall, making Robin wince. "Oops," the student muttered. Upon checking that there was no damage, Yoshi addressed their team head again.

"Finally!" he continued cheerfully. "So glad you're here. We've been waiting for _ever_."

"It's only been eleven minutes," countered Shulk. Normally Shulk would say such a thing with a light and teasing tone, perhaps bordering on mocking. Today he spoke with a flat and irritable voice, hardly bothering to look at either of them. Robin blinked as anxiousness stirred in his stomach. Yoshi's broad smile flickered, not quite reaching his eyes, allowing the white-haired man to deduce that his enthusiasm was somewhat forced.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, Shulk just sitting there while Robin looked at him and Yoshi looked at Robin. "Uhm," Robin coughed, totally clueless on how to approach this tension into which he had been catapulted. However, he was saved from having to figure that out by Yoshi sliding in front of his field of view.

"So," the intern prompted, miraculously taking up a professional demeanor, "What's the plan for today? We have to start getting the final numbers for the amoeba populations, yes?"

Robin blinked, allowing his brain to steady itself from the stress this morning had provided and returning back to wondrous procedure. Work. Genetics. He knew how to do that.

"Correct," he said easily, straightening. "So you know the drill, but we need to put these numbers into the database and get a final average. Yoshi, you can just get those petri dishes out of the incubator and, um, don't forget gloves this time."

"Right-o," agreed Yoshi, walking off and happily flapping the arms of his lab coat.

"And, uh…Shulk…you can, er, start up the computer and get on the database?"

He phrased it like a question rather than an instruction, and for a second he wondered if Shulk would even do it. He still wasn't really looking at him, as though he was trying to hide his face.

But then, with a quick breath out his nose, the British scientist replied shortly, "Yep." He stood out of his chair, only to trip on it whilst walking away. He gave a low mumble of irritation before continuing about his business on the other side of the laboratory.

As much as he was for staying out of people's business, he had to get to the bottom of this. Robin never had to deal with such a lethargic version of a coworker. He walked over to Yoshi, who was putting on gloves with disproportionate amounts of concentration as though he might forget to put them on halfway through the process.

"Do…you know what's wrong with him?" Robin asked in a low voice, gesturing to the blond on the far side of the room.

"Yeah," murmured Yoshi, gazing sadly at their British teammate. "Fiora dumped him last night."

Robin blinked. "Shulk's girlfriend?"

"Nah, his pet unicorn." Robin gave him a funny look. The green-haired boy backtracked. "Only kidding. Of course it's his girlfriend."

"Oh." Robin understood now. "Why?"

Yoshi shrugged helplessly. "Dunno, I wasn't there. It's really weird, they're so close and stuff…"

Robin too was at a loss. He simply watched as Shulk, distracted by his grief, knocked over a microscope with his elbow. The English scientist fumbled to catch it, cursing under his breath with words that Robin did not expect the likes of him to ever utter.

A brief note about scientific research: each "discovery" was generally a very, very small and specific piece of information that _may_ possibly _suggest_ a certain theory. It would then be made into a research paper which may or may not be used for other scientists to look at and generate a hypothesis for other projects, and perhaps reference the researchers behind their sources in tiny lettering crammed into a footnote in the back of the book. A brief note about scientists: they absolutely loved it.

Robin was no exception. With all the drawbacks and failed attempts and repeated trials, he knew firsthand how extremely exciting it was to finally gather all their successful observations, where one of two things would happen: either the hypothesis would be supported and a new, provable connection was made, or the data would display another result which led to even more questions, and thus more research. In Robin's eyes, it was a winning situation either way, and procuring that very, very small and specific piece of information was a massive success in the world of science. In all honesty, he still hadn't gotten over how _his_ team had found evidence of genetic origins in digestive diseases such as Crohn's. It had been their first project ever on human genetics, and their tiny yet simultaneously massive success had the whole institution in an uproar. Scientists were excitable like that. But at this time, the three of them were back to microbiological studies.

As they sat having lunch after a morning of dealing with numbers and amoeba, Robin's lifted mood over completing their project was again tainted by the oppressive weight of Shulk's mood. It filled him with tension (he always seemed to be filled with tension, he almost didn't notice anymore), but what was even more anxiety-inducing was the thought of trying to talk to him. Or making any eye contact. He instead took to becoming just as withdrawn and pretending that Shulk did not exist.

However, while Shulk's gloom made Robin shy away, Yoshi seemed to experience an opposing effect.

"…and then the raccoon jumped off his head and ran away! We all promised never to have a cheese cube fight again."

Yoshi beamed at his two coworkers upon finishing his lengthy story. As bizarre as the account was, Robin couldn't really stir himself to respond this time, electing to shrink into his shell. Shulk only threw the poor student a flat and unimpressed look. Yoshi slumped back in his chair, giving his sandwich a glum look as he lapsed back into silence.

In honesty, Robin was thankful, but he still felt a slight tension in the air indicating that Yoshi was still casting out for something else to say. It was becoming very hard to handle his teammates today.

Yoshi sat up again after a few minutes, making Robin wary and ready for any number of bizarre, perky statements ("what's your spirit fruit" being a likely candidate).

"Hey, Shulk," said Yoshi, his voice minutely more gentle than average.

Shulk glanced up. "Hm?"

"Did your mom like the cookies?"

Robin frowned. A few weeks prior Shulk's mother had an operation of some kind, and upon hearing about it Yoshi's family made cookies to send for her, because they were those kind of people. He'd entirely forgot about this; what the instance had to do with anything, he didn't know. He just shook his head slightly and went about his business. He didn't expect Shulk to answer, but then-

"Wha- oh, er, yes, she liked them." The scientist paused for a moment, before adding, "She said that she might just get another dangerous operation if it meant you'd send more."

Yoshi laughed in his child-seeing-bubbles-for-the-first-time manner. "Just ring me up." He thought about something. "Hey, do you actually have my phone number? No? Hold up." Yoshi grabbed a napkin from his bag and scribbled a cell phone number onto it. Shulk raised a single eyebrow, which about summed up Robin's thoughts as well. The green-haired student crumpled it up and threw it at his coworker.

"There you go, gift from me. In case you need more emergency cookies. Or, y'know, any other…important points of discussion." He gave a ridiculous wink. Shulk rolled his eyes just a little, but a few moments later he put the napkin in his pocket, looking away. Robin now understood what Yoshi was getting at. He was offering an opportunity to Shulk to talk about his breakup, and probably trying to make him feel better in a strange and convoluted way. Robin finished his lunch and informed them it was time to get back to work, reflecting on how just how weird his teammates were.

However, he noted that following lunch, Shulk was a little more focused. His movements were less shrouded by misery, if only a bit. At one point, Robin saw him with his hand in his pocket, eyeing the trashcan for a brief moment with the faintest trace of a scowl. But he then withdrew his hand and continued observing the petri dish of amoeba, letting the napkin stay in his pocket. He didn't drop any more equipment. Robin didn't entirely understand how Yoshi accomplished it when all Shulk seemed to want was to be left alone. Just add that to the list of other things Robin didn't understand. As a scientist, Robin hated that list.

However, the rest of the day still continued on in a subdued manor. Robin always thought that he would've liked some peace and quiet for once, but the rare silence of his teammates only echoed in the back of his head, letting strange thoughts grow and join the sound.

* * *

Final Numbers collected. Percent of Original Population in Population A: 76.8%

Percent of Original Population in Population B: 67.3%

Clear correlation determined, awaiting further investigation.

Other notes: clear correlation determined in Test Subject B, dubbed "Shulk Cooper", between love and performance, requires little further investigation.

Other notes: the front door to the institution has a high percentage of finger-smudged surface area. Requires immediate investigation.

Robin was preoccupied on the drive home, his brain too busy calculating and taking sums and creating a solution to the equation that was the events of today.

He waited outside the door of the apartment building like he did nearly every day, unless his timing was impeccable, staring at the shadow the building cast and waiting like a tensely coiled spring for it to line up with the bottom edge of the store across the street. The building was unsafe to enter before this event.

He thought back to all the times Shulk came to work smiling because he dropped off Fiora before coming to EGGR. Sometimes he'd clean up extra speedy after work, before happily heading off for an evening out with her. On occasion, he gaze into nothingness with a pleasant look on his face. Robin knew whom he was thinking of but would have to snap him out of it so he could get back to work. It was all mostly harmless.

But now that variable had been taken out, and resulted in the mess of Shulk that he had worked with today. His behavior had, as far as Robin had observed:

Decreased his productivity and the productivity of the team in general

Nearly resulted in the inadvertent destruction of several pieces of laboratory equipment

Resulted in Robin needing to reprimand or refocus him at least 4 ½ times

Distracted him several times in the past when he was still with Fiora.

This of course, weighed against the pros that Robin could observe led him to

Conclusion: In the context of work, Shulk's relationship wasn't rational, and in net benefit, was not worth it.

He realized that he was staring at the store across the street. The shadow was lined up, and almost slipped past as he thought to himself. He quickly pulled open the door to the apartment building and made for the staircase (elevators are much too risky). The words he had just been thinking echoed in his head again and again and-

"Hey there, buddy." Robin flinched as the gravelly voice interrupted him. He heaved a sigh and made himself (sort of) look at the squat man who had just exited the elevator.

"Hello, Squirtle," he muttered, gazing longingly at the stairway that was now blocked by his apartment neighbor. That man always seemed to want to chat, and chat was not something that Robin specialized in.

Seeming to realize for once that Robin was in a particularly un-talkative mood, Squirtle got to the point. "Yeah, your girlfriend was looking for you," he said, waddling towards the front doors. "She wanted to know…ah, I dunno, something. She's looking for you." How helpful.

"Lucina's not my girlfriend," he called after Squirtle for the millionth time. The man left without showing any signs of hearing. Typical. He, along with everyone else in the world, just assumed that since Lucina was sleeping on the couch in his apartment every night, she must be his girlfriend. Robin couldn't understand why anyone would, with such little conclusive evidence. However, Robin noted as he ascended the stairs that though it was a pain, he'd never felt more glad to affirm that he did not have a girlfriend. He was only logical, after all.

* * *

 **GEE**

 **I WONDER WHY ANYONE WOULD THINK SHE'S YOUR GIRLFRIEND ROBIN, SHE ONLY SLEEPS IN YOUR HOUSE EVERY NIGHT**

 **So, he's a bit oblivious for such a smart guy. And also he has an affinity for the number six as we may have picked up on. So you've met his coworkers. How are you liking them? Well, actually, let's not ask that yet; they were clearly out of whack. Shulk's majorly bummed out about his gf, and Yoshi gets all manic about it because he doesn't like sad people making sad environments. But Yoshi's the one who's evidently got some people skills, unlike Robin, who's just like "wat". What is being friends with coworkers? Don't worry, that's not the last we'll be seeing of Shulk and Yoshi. Also, I kinda pull random side characters from other games to fill some spots. Yeah. And sorry about all the SCIENCE. And the criminal abuse of parenthesis, but it's just the many tabs of Robin's brain going on.**

 **So maybe you're not warmed up to Robin yet. I can see _maybe_ why not, though he tries really hard y'know. I like him. But next chapter oughtta do it for you, because the story's picking up with a spot** **of... _ **babysitting**. _****_DUN DUN DUN!_ It'll be exciting, ****and continuing with our pattern of introducing two major characters per chapter, we'll be meeting Lucina's polar-opposite friend Palutena and her first-grader Pit.**

 **Thanks for making it this far down the page! Please oh please tell me what you thought about the chapter, the characters, predictions, wishes, lullabies, whatever. Any concrit should come with a compliment sandwich if you can; I admit I'm sensitive. Your face is beautiful! See you actually soon, hopefully!**


	3. 3) Ready or Not

**I mean at least this didn't take 6 months this time. Sorry folks, after Ch.2 happened school started and...it's been a rough first trimester for me, fraught with college apps and personal issues. I've gotten a lot better though! So I cooked up this SUPER long piece of garbage, Probably not as revised as it should be. ALSO THE FORMATTING WON'T WORK FOR SOME PARTS? Grr. Whatever, hope you enjoy reading about hide-n-seek?**

Chapter 3: Ready or Not

"Palutena and I are going out tonight," announced Lucina out of the blue.

Robin hardly looked up from his book to where she stood in the bedroom doorway. "Huh," he stated helpfully.

Lucina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Why don't you come with us?" It was more like a halfhearted statement than a question.

Her housemate looked up from his book for real this time, his mind instantly transported to last week's dinner date fiasco. He thought about the noise, the light, the people, strangers, zooming cars, dirty puddles, the overwhelming sound of a small building filled with watching people, sharp silverware and fire, watching eyes, eyes, eyeseyes _eyes_ -

"No thanks, I think I'll stay here," he replied, flipping to the next page in his book.

Lucina said nothing. It was impossible to read her face; was she irritated or relieved? Maybe both. However, the blue-haired girl remained silent on the subject. That is, until she checked her phone a minute or two later (Lucina's phone, he would like to add, was one of those with a slide-out keypad, for she simply never saw the need to upgrade. Somehow it suited her.)

She squinted at the text she had received before saying aloud, "Palutena says that Pit's babysitter just quit, and she has no one to watch him tonight." She paused, then lifted her gaze to him.

Robin liked to think himself a fairly intelligent person. Thus, he already saw where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit.

"She doesn't want him to come, because there's no food for kids and we'd be out past his bedtime," continued Lucina. "She wishes to know if you're staying here, and asks if maybe you could do her a favor and watch him for a while."

See, kids themselves were fine. The idea of Robin being put in _sole charge_ of one was absolutely horrifying. Children were wild, unpredictable, and incompetent. Robin could only imagine all the things that could possibly go wrong.

He could always tell Lucina to say that he was busy, but with her stubborn refusal to lie, she would certainly make sure that he was _actually_ busy doing something. The idea of going anywhere besides his safe home strained Robin's nerves. He really would give anything to just stay in his house and read, but then, anything was better than having to leave home. Including watching the minor explosion that was Pit.

"I…" Robin faltered, uncertain. Lucina just watched him with her deadpan seriousness, her outdated phone at the ready to reply for him. Staring. "Fine," he muttered, "I'll watch him. I refuse to claim responsibility for the damages."

Predictably, Lucina didn't respond. She simply replied to Palutena for him and went to get ready. Robin sighed irritably. That's one evening ruined.

Lucina returned after getting prepared (which meant changing from sensible clothing to slightly fancier sensible clothing) to inform him that Palutena was exceedingly thankful for his favor.

"I wouldn't thank me yet," Robin muttered to himself.

Soon enough there was a knock on the door (Robin knew exactly who it was, but tensed up anyway). Lucina went to answer it as Robin sank into his chair until his shoulders were nearly at the seat. It always took him a minute to put on his "interaction face", because it was not only his face that he had to compose but his whole brain (he couldn't talk as well as think about the time, hoping it's not on minute thirteen or something of that sort, or ponder the fascinating theories brought up in his book that he longed to continue, or hope he remembered to organize everything before leaving the lab earlier that day, and rack his brains to remember if he had left anything out of place, he better not have left the incubator on-)

"Oooooh Robin, someone's here to see you~!"

The voice of Palutena jarred him back to the present. "Fantastic," he muttered under his breath, before getting up to deal with this situation.

To many people, Palutena and Lucina's friendship was almost comical with how different they were. Robin supposed he could see the strange juxtaposition as the two stood there in the front hall. Palutena's dress was not scandalously short, but the hem did call a little attention to itself. She wore a scarf that was visually pleasing, but all Robin could think of was how annoying it must be with her immensely long green hair, which swung around as she observed Lucina's choice of outfit. Lucina stood stiffly, her stony-bordering-on-pouting expression at odds with Palutena's teasing disapproval. Behind Palutena's leg Robin could see a mop of brown hair and one big blue eye peering out. (Robin wondered wryly why Pit was acting shy; he had met Pit many times before, and the child didn't exactly strike Robin as reserved).

Palutena was still teasing Lucina about her clothing. "Remind me to get you a skirt from Goodwill or something next time I'm out," she said, gesturing to her friend's pants.

"I have a skirt," protested Lucina, arms crossed.

"Yeah, the one. The one skirt. That has never seen the light of day."

Lucina gave her a blank, unamused look that didn't bother Palutena in the slightest. Instead she turned her attention to Robin.

"Hey Robin!" she greeted him. "How was your day?"

Tiring just like all the rest. "Oh, good." He paused. Then he remembered to add, "You?"

"Oh, you know, just busy. Had to leave work early to take this one to an appointment." She ruffled Pit's hair. "The foot's been giving him a little trouble." Pit had been born with a slightly crooked foot, but it apparently it hadn't been too much of an issue. He was always darting around without much trouble.

"Just take it easy is all," continued Palutena lightly. "Anyway, thank you so much for watching him! I'll owe you one." Perhaps she noticed Robin's dubious face, because she added, "Don't worry, we won't be out too late. You know, unless Lucina catches party fever and wants to go bar hopping or something, per usual."

"Right," agreed Lucina dryly.

"Hey, I mean, if you really wanted to, I'm the driver. You could let loose." Lucina just rolled her eyes.

Robin wondered why Palutena was always the designated driver. To him, she seemed the type that would have no problem with alcohol of any kind.

"Palutena, why don't you drink?" he asked suddenly. "Did you have a previous addiction?"

Lucina shot him an icy look, swatting his arm in her "that was a socially inept statement" way.

"What?" asked Robin incredulously. "It was a question purely of intellectual curiosity."

"And many of those tend to be the most insensitive from you," countered Lucina.

"Guys, guys," Palutena broke into their clearly digressing argument, "as much as I enjoy listening to you two argue like a Shakespearian couple, we do have a reservation to get to."

"Yes," agreed Lucina, pulling on her coat. Robin didn't want her to leave him alone with a child.

"Bye mom!" Pit finally spoke, detaching himself from his mother.

"Goodbye! Behave yourself, don't get in any trouble! Oh, and that goes for you too, Pit."

 _Everyone's a critic,_ Robin thought with resignation.

The door clicked shut, and for a moment the two of them just stood there looking at it. Then Pit turned and launched himself into the main room. "All right! What d'you wanna do?"

"Do," repeated Robin dumbly. He wasn't really sure what to do now that he had reached this point. What did kids do? "Uh…do you want to watch TV?"

"Sure!" Pit agreed instantly. At least he didn't seem nearly as uncomfortable as Robin felt. And, Robin realized with relief as he turned on the television, he could continue reading his book this way. He sat back down, opening the book where he left off before this unwelcome interruption and reading. Until, that is, he heard what was coming from the TV.

"…city's gang violence issue is becoming rampant," the anchorwoman was saying, "Exponential increases in street fighting, assaults, fraud, vandalism, and drug trafficking have been documented in the police department's database, and on Tuesday the mayor gave a discourse on-"

Robin leapt up and snatched the remote to change the channel away from the grainy clips of crime. Pit frowned at the TV as though deep in thought about the images he had just witnessed. "Were they talking about Advil drugs?"

"No, they…no. You can watch something else." Please don't let him repeat that stuff to Palutena, Robin thought.

Pit brightened. "Okay."

Robin set the channel to some silly cartoon that the kid seemed excited about, then went back to reading. Besides that news channel issue, this whole thing was going…not awful. In fact, things continued without a hitch for the next half hour or so.

Eventually, Pit's attention began wander, as children's attention often does. He looked around the room a few times, ignoring the television, then started to bounce on the couch. Robin winced. He didn't want Pit to jump on the couch. What if it broke, and Pit fell and horribly injured himself? Not likely, but now that he could see it, the possibility wouldn't leave him.

"Pit," he said weakly, "don't jump on the couch."

The boy looked at him, still bouncing, and stuck out his tongue playfully. That's the issue with kids, realized Robin with frustration: nothing ensures that they will do something like telling them not to. But…he needed him to _stop._

Robin, he thought to himself firmly, _you_ are in charge here. What are you doing, so scared of a child?

(Well, he wasn't scared of Pit, per say; just scared that if he told him what to do, he would freak out. Or worse, start crying. Children were just tantrum time-bombs that he was terrified of setting off.) He wouldn't have a clue what to do about it if he messed up. If he couldn't tell Pit what not to do, what could he say instead?

"Uh…hey Pit," he said, sounding as amiable as possible, "are you done watching the show?"

"Yep." _Sproing. Sproing. Sproing._

"Do you want to…" He had to suggest something else. "…go play a game instead?"

"Sure!" Pit took a flying leap off the couch, letting Robin exhale with relief. The first-grader skipped around the room, his boundless energy just making Robin more tired.

"What should we play? Maybe- oh wait! Could we have dinner first? I'm kinda hungry."

Dinner. Right, he had to feed the child. _Why me?_ "Yes, sure." He followed Pit into the kitchen, where the tiny boy clambered onto a chair that was much too tall for him. Robin just stared at the cupboards.

"Uh, child food," he muttered to himself. What was a child diet? What did children eat? He didn't have any kid food.

"What kind of food do you like," he demanded abruptly.

Pit pondered the question for a moment. "Well, a lot of food! As long as there are no veggies in it. Mommy's always trying to put gross veggies in there, and she thinks I can't taste 'em, but of _course_ I can-"

"Uh-huh, what's your favorite food?" Robin broke into his clearly digressing rant about greenery (he'd been able to tell from the moment he first heard Pit open his mouth that he was one of the many children that did not know when to stop talking).

"I guess…could we have mac and cheese?"

"…okay." Robin had no mac and cheese. Robin had no cooking skills. Robin had not the guts to risk getting Pit upset, so he had to find the former two things somewhere inside deep himself.

Pit began to chatter about something of little interest, so the geneticist just nodded like he was paying attention as he grabbed the bag of shredded cheddar from the freezer and dumped it into a pot to melt it. He ran his gaze through the cabinet above the stove. He had penne pasta, that was good enough.

He started boiling a pot of water. He felt like he had one eye pointed at the stove and one pointed at Pit. He tried not to think of some possible way that he could cause Pit to end up on the searing stovetop. Or that he could easily smash his own hand onto the burners, right now. He hated the stove.

"Mister Robin?"

Robin looked up at the direct question, ready to pretend he was listening again. "Yes?"

"What do you do?"

"…Pardon?"

"What do you do for a job?"

"Oh…you want to _know_ what I _do_?" Pit nodded.

Robin raised his eyebrows with surprise, but indulged him anyway. "I'm a geneticist."

"Does that mean you do stuff to Dee-En-Ay?"

Robin felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "Yes."

Pit's eyes were huge. "Does that mean you make mutants?"

Robin was somewhat affronted. What a juvenile question. "No. We study the genomes of a great variety of species and use them to understand what each gene codes for, and potentially use to create genetically modified organisms using gene splicing."

"So…you make mutants."

Robin was taken aback. "I mean, if you put it that way…" He supposed some experiments _did_ , technically, create mutants. Not the most scientific term, but…"Sort of."

"Whoa. Are you working on any mutants?"

Robin began to explain, "No, I'm working on…" but he trailed off. What was he doing? It's not like the kid would understand a single thing. Children were simple and generally incompetent.

(He felt Pit's eyes on him and it made him uncomfortable. Why did he have to keep looking at him?)

He'd been counting the marks on the wall past Pit's head (he had never noticed them and now that he had, well, they needed to at least be counted). But when Robin actually looked at the child's face, he was surprised to find…genuine interest. Pit was fascinated. Robin noted that he probably had more interest in what Robin was talking about than anyone he'd ever talked to. Come to think of it, most people's eyes had glazed over by this point in the conversation. The geneticist had never really noticed it (given his incapability to understand cues such as this and desire to continue discussing his favorite topic), until it wasn't there. Robin couldn't decide if that made him feel a twinge of embarrassment, or a warm drop of appreciation for the interest he was now being given. So he continued.

"…well, I'm working on plasmids in amoeba at the moment. The experiment itself is nearly done with."

"What are ah-mee-buh?"

"Amoeba are unicellular organisms that can emit pseudopods to increase mobility and swallow smaller organisms, usually living in damp environments or in a parasitic relationship."

This was met with a blank stare.

Robin sighed. "Tiny cell blob animals that eat other little cell animals with their blob."

Pit perked up. "Whoa! Cool!"

Robin, for some reason, continued to talk. He hardly tolerated conversations with people, but after all, his favorite topic was what he did for a living. Perhaps it was also nice to have someone listening for a change, even if it was a first-grader. He told Pit so much about his job and experiments he almost burned the goosh of cheese he was melting to put on the pasta (Pit was actually surprised, telling him that he could have eaten something else if there was no mac and cheese. Robin just hadn't been taking any chances).

When Pit finished eating, he promptly hopped off his chair, chirping, "Let's do something fun, Mister Robin!"

Then Robin's relative ease was destroyed as Pit slipped, whacking his head on the corner of the table before rolling to the ground.

Robin's mind spazzed with panic, before being pulled out of total chaos mode by Pit sitting up. Well, that was good, he wasn't dead or horribly injured or something. But unfortunately, Pit's breathing grew ragged. Tears started to well in his eyes.

"Oh, no no no, no." Why did they have to cry so easy? His own panic was building; he had to think of something, and fast. Think Robin, think! "You're fine, it's just a bump."

The child's breathing was still heavy. An approach of denial didn't work. He could explode at any moment.

"Uh, it's okay! Let's not think about it. Let's…play a game. We're going to play a game."

The first-grader looked up, sniffling. "A game?"

"Yes," insisted Robin fervently. The undeniable allure of a prospective game was already bringing Pit back from the edge of bawling. "A game. Uh, hide and seek. Do you like hide and seek?"

Pit perked up, his eyes still a little red. "Yes."

"Great. We're doing that. Get up." He ushered Pit to his feet and into the main room. _Note to self: blatant distraction is the best tool in one's arsenal._

"You count first," said Pit.

"Fine," agreed the geneticist, despite how very weary of counting he really was. He could take his sweet time finding the boy so he could have a moment to breathe. "I'll count to forty."

"Fifty."

"I'd prefer forty."

"Forty-five."

"Too odd. Forty."

"Pleeease? I need time to find a good hiding spot!"

"…fine. I'll even give you sixty." Six was good anyway.

"Thankyouthankyou! Make sure you close your eyes!"

Robin frowned. "Of course. That's the whole point of-"

"And your ears. It's too small in here, you'd hear when I go hide!"

"Okay, fine. I'm starting now." Robin felt rather stupid standing in the middle of his living room with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears. Kid games.

"One…two…three…"

(He hoped Pit didn't hurt himself again.)

"Eleven…twelve…fourteen…"

(Looks like Pit was really only getting 59 seconds.)

"Thirty-nine…forty…forty-one…"

(It occurred to him that while he was standing here with his eyes and ears shut that something might happen and he wouldn't even notice. He had to fight the impulse to check that he turned off the stove.)

"Fifty-nine…sixty."

He opened his eyes and began his search. He checked the room he was in first, because if Pit actually had the ability to be silent for once he could easily have been in there. He strolled through the bathroom and the bedroom to no avail. Pit must be a good hider, thought Robin; there was only so much space in the apartment. He had to be in the kitchen. As he crossed the hall from his bedroom to the kitchen, his eyes picked up on a detail that made him go rigid.

The front door was open just a crack.

A thousand possibilities electrified his brain, until he realized that he never stated outright the _boundaries_ of this game of hide and seek.

"Pit? Pit!" he called through the apartment in one last-ditch attempt to see if Pit was still in there after all.

No such luck. Typical.

Robin launched himself into the hallways. A minute was a long time. That kid could be anywhere by this point. Which way had he gone?

Well, the left was a dead end, so he couldn't have gone that way (unless he was really clueless enough to enter someone else's apartment, oh God please don't let him be in a stranger's apartment). Logically. He had to do this logically. And strategically. There was a higher chance that Pit had gone downstairs, as going down took less time than going up, and while upstairs was more of the same, downstairs had many more closets and things to hide in or behind. Not that he would know that, but it was Robin's best guess.

He dashed for the stairs. He was almost at the bottom when he remembered the count. He lurched, trying to skip the thirteenth step, and lost his footing entirely.

 _Thunk_

 _Whunk_

 _Thump_

 _SLAM._

…Ouch.

In a heap at the bottom of the stairs, the fear that he had broken something lanced through him. If he broke a bone, he'd have to miss work and go to a hospital. He had been in a hospital once and refused to ever set foot in a hellhole like that again. He gingerly untangled himself, and found that aside from the general ache of all parts of his body, nothing felt smashed beyond repair. Now he just had to not think about internal bleeding. Which naturally caused him to consider it a lot.

"Oh gosh, are you okay?"

There was a woman standing above him, offering her hand out to help him up. He'd seen her around before. She lived on this floor. He didn't want to talk to her, especially not while looking like a total idiot who fell down the stairs.

"Yes, I'm fine." He hauled himself to his feet, ignoring her outstretched hand (who knows where that hand has been?), and took off down the hall.

"Pit?" he called to the hall at large, stopping and checking in each broom closet and potted plant. "Pit, come out, you weren't supposed to leave the apartment!"

He heard someone from one of the rooms call, "God, it's him again…PUT A LID ON IT, YOU LUNATIC!" Robin honestly couldn't care less, for he had picked up on the noise of pattering feet.

"Wait- PIT! Is that you? Come back!" Judging from how Pit was running away down the hall around the turn, he had just been behind the plant sitting at the corner.

"Hey!" yelled Robin indignantly, dashing toward the turn. "You can't move spots!"

Pit's voice called from far down the next hallway, "It doesn't count unless you _see_ me!"

Few times had Robin ever been closer to homicide.

Robin came to the end of the hallway to the staircase leading down, and found to his utter dismay that it was closed off with some caution tape. A chunk of the wall was opened up, and none other than Pikachu was working on something inside.

"Ey, Robbie!" Pikachu greeted him. "Ha. Long time no see…heehee, just kidding. You need something?"

He tried to say _Have you seen a kid_ and _Do you know where he went_ , but "Have you where a went?" burst out instead.

 _…Why must things be this way?_

Pikachu seemed to understand what Robin was pathetically trying to say. "Ah, looking for a kid, blue shirt, about yay tall? Yeah, ran right past me, ignored the tape and everythin'. Nearly knocked over my whole toolbox. Went downstairs. If you want to get him I suggest you take the elevator, you're not really supposed ta come this way."

Robin was starting to realize that perhaps there was a reason Pit's babysitter quit. After suffering the worst twenty four seconds ever in the elevator (he knew the seconds because he counted each one and hoped he wouldn't die, not touching a single thing except the floor and one button), he emerged on the floor below.

"Take it easy, she says," he muttered to himself, "He shouldn't be running much, she says. Oh, you'll do _fine_ , they say-"

" _Achoo!_ "

Robin whipped his head around to the potted plant in the corner of the room. _There._ He dashed over before Pit could decide to move, pushing apart the leaves to reveal Pit's huge blue eyes staring at him.

"Aha!" he gasped triumphantly, still somewhat out of breath. "I found you…"

Pit came out from behind the plant, sticking out his tongue. "If there were any good hiding spots in this place I would have stayed hidden forever!"

Robin bristled. "Wha- no, no, that was an awful idea," he scolded heatedly. "What possessed you to leave my apartment and run around like a maniac? What if something happened to you and I didn't know where you were? You would be in enormous trouble and then your mother would murder me. Don't do such a stupid thing ever again."

"...sorry," apologized Pit. "I just thought…I couldn't find a good place in your house. I didn't know."

"…" Robin wanted to be angry still, but instead he just said, "I should have made clearer rules then. It makes sense to try new options. Let's go."

They returned to the apartment, Pit bouncing along and feeling happy again. Robin, for his part, felt dead.

But the very moment he sank into a chair in his home, the door swung open again. He hardly even felt the energy to feel anxious about it. It was Lucina and Palutena, having returned from their night out.

Pit darted over to his mother and hugged her with a smile. Robin tried to look marginally less dead.

"So, how was you boys' evening?" Palutena asked affectionately, more to Pit than to Robin.

"It was sooo much fun!" exclaimed Pit. "We ate mac n' cheese, Robin told me about his lab where he makes mutants, and we played hide and seek and I went-"

"Into the cupboards!" Robin burst in. "Yes. He hid in the cupboards. Under the sink. Astounding. Didn't even figure he could fit in there." He still didn't want to be destroyed by Palutena if she discovered she had let her child loose in the building.

Pit looked confused for a moment, then caught on and added, "Well yeah, I'm a great hider! Robin was awful at finding me!" Pit beamed. Robin glared.

However, the white-haired man was somewhat horrified when Palutena too gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, Pit enjoys rather _thrilling_ games of hide and seek," she said with a mischievous grin. "I'm so glad you two had a good time, I thought I was going to have to cancel plans! Glad you were up to the task though, Robin. Honestly, I was kind of expecting you to descend into complete chaos before the night was out. You've exceeded expectations!"

"…thanks."

"Anyway, I owe you one. Pit, what do we say to Robin?"

"Thank you!" cheered Pit, genuinely grateful. Robin just waved with a smile that was more of a grimace.

"Mister Robin, you should tell mom about your mutants!" exclaimed Pit (he really wouldn't let the idea that Robin makes "mutants" for a job go).

"Er- perhaps another time," evaded Robin, though his face smiled a little for real this time.

"We need to get you home, it's your bedtime," Palutena agreed. She then cast Robin a thoughtful look. "Hmm…you know, you might make a good father one day."

"…me?" questioned Robin blankly. A pointless question, really; she definitely wasn't referencing Lucina.

"Sure," she asserted easily. "You might think yourself quite the professional scientist man, but I think there's a little bit of you that is good with the kids. You managed Pit alright, kudos to you." She winked, but the gesture partly covered up some other emotion that crossed her face. Sorrow? Robin didn't understand. "I think you'd be great at it. Well, goodnight! Talk to you soon, Lucina~!"

She and Pit left. Robin locked the door.

Lucina nodded. "You didn't die and you didn't kill Pit. Good." Perhaps this was her version of praise. But Robin wasn't listening as he went into his bedroom and Lucina crashed on the couch.

Thoughts circling in his head kept him awake again that night, but they weren't stresses or fears. No, his mind had latched onto the idea of him being fit for anything to do with people, of being a husband, a _father_ , to offspring of his own, with someone who loved him. He tried to beat down the silly notion before it got out of control, but it was too late. The words worked a circuit in his brain. _Could be but can't but want to but won't but needed it so bad that there had to be a way but he was_ scared _, how do I fix it?_

What he needed was a plan.

 **Okay so sorry it's so long. I'M ANGRY THAT THE FORMATTING OF ROBIN FALLING DOWN THE STAIRS DIDN'T WORK. But hopefull it was somewhat entertaining? So, tell me your thoughts on the characters, plot, ideas, themes, funny parts, touching parts, parts you hated, whatever. In fact, I'm gonna give you some questions to consider. Aren't I a right English teacher? You can even leave your thoughts on them in the comments. They may be dumb b/c I'm writing this at like 12 AM but whatever:**

 **Do you agree that Robin's got skill with kids? Was he right in avoiding romantics all together, or should he give it another shot? Was the eventful visit actually helpful to him? What's Palutena's deal with no alcohol and stuff? What seemed to make her kinda sad there at the end?**

 **So some of that later stuff may be answered, as I might do side one-shots for supporting characters to develop them and develop the theme for this piece. I'll try REALLY hard to be faster. This story will be poppin. Leave some concrit in a Compliment Sandwich. thanks for making it this far down the page! Your face is beautiful! Bye now!**


	4. 4) Enter the Wife Project

**I can't believe it. Two days ago marked a year of this story being published. A YEAR. How on Earth has it been that long? Why am I so slow? I'm on chapter 4 for crying out loud. But I'm hoping that I'll be able to pick it up a bit from here, 'cause after this chapter things will hopefully be more fast-paced. I promise I'll try, 'cause I kinda like this story.**

 **Also, I do small edits to previous chapters sometimes, because often they bug me. And they're so far between that people probably have to read them again to figure out what's going on, if anyone cares that much. Also, I'm looking for some constructive criticism on my writing. I'm sensitive, so I admit I do require the Compliment Sandwich most of the time, but I often am afraid my writing is too wordy or hard to understand. Let me know your advice; I seek to improve.**

 **So last time we had Robin in his disastrous yet simultaneously successful in a way babysitting escapade, and his rekindled fascination with finding himself a ~true love~. This next chapter, he works to set up his plan. Please enjoy**

Chapter 4: Enter The Wife Project, and Shulk's Classy Lady Advice

Lucina jumped with surprise when the first sight that greeted her upon waking was Robin sitting at the table, hunched over a large piece of paper illuminated by a single lamp. And muttering to himself.

"…Good morning," she said. Robin waved a hand, not sparing the brain room required to formulate a response. He had to focus, he was almost done his newest endeavor, his stroke of pure brilliance that had come to him in the night. He scribbled out another sentence before closing the bottom of the box with a firm, ruler-assisted line.

Lucina made herself a cup of coffee before commenting again (as two mostly reserved people, their conversations were usually stratified, which Robin preferred). "…How long have you been up for?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Robin passionately, without looking up.

"…to what do you owe the pleasure of staying up all night again?"

Having just completed his big bulleted paragraph, the geneticist whipped around in his chair, the light of "so-glad-you-asked" burning in his eyes. He leapt to his feet, snatching his freshly completed masterpiece off the table.

"So," Robin said, rummaging around in one of the kitchen drawers for magnets, "Last night I had a brilliant thought. I hypothesize that I've been going about this 'dating' process all wrong."

Lucina raised an eyebrow, which could have meant any number of things that Robin did not deign to try and interpret.

"I haven't gone about it the right way," repeated Robin, extracting several refrigerator magnets from the drawer. "I was foolish to think _I_ would be able to do this any other way but systematically!" He was acting giddier than he had ever allowed himself to outwardly express, bouncing like a child excited by his new coloring book. He unfurled the large poster in his hands and held it to the fridge. "That is why I have created a carefully calculated master list of compatibility that will allow me to find the perfect potential partner."

He stepped back, revealing his work. The flowchart-slash-master list contained every criteria that Robin's hyper-logical brain could come up with to ensure an optimal, lasting relationship with the highest compatibility to himself. He even left some space at the bottom, in case more came to him along the way.

It was simply titled "The Wife Project", and it went as follows:

 **The Wife Project**

 **Hypothesis: If a potential partner fulfills the requirements below, then the chances of 100% compatibility are 99%-100% guaranteed.**

 **CRITERIA:**

 **-Subject must possess good physical health and lifestyle choices: i.e. no smoking, excessive consumption of alcohol, harmful, preexisting hereditary conditions, veganism, et c.**

 **-Subject must not have a tendency toward risk-taking behavior, whether physical, financial, or relational, that could damage a relationship.**

 **-Subject must have a certain level of cleanliness and regard for neatness, order, and good health.**

 **-Subject must also be willing to accept and understand experimenter's level of neatness, order, and good health.**

 **-Subject must be of a down-to-earth, logically driven demeanor, so as to not drive the experimenter out of his mind. Minimal dramatics, poetics, romantics, and other unnecessary complications that could damage a relationship.**

 **-Subject must also be of a direct demeanor, verbal and literal, to optimize successful communication with experimenter.**

 **-Subject must be punctual.**

 **-Subject's hair must have a certain degree of symmetry.**

 **-Subject must be able to think in the future and plan ahead, especially concerning relationship and important life matters.**

 **-Subject must not have overt connections to the number that will remain unnamed.**

 **If these criteria are fulfilled by any person, then that person possesses the qualities that are perfectly compatible with the specific position and qualities of the experimenter, and will ultimately lead to success.**

Robin had tried his best to work out what kind of person might be qualified to be in a long-term relationship with a person like himself. This project would help him eliminate the smokers, the late-arrivers, the overly emotional. Situations like he had with the woman with horribly uneven hair would also be avoided. He wanted to ensure that this person would not only help improve some of the communication skills he lacked, but could also accommodate his peculiarities, which after all this time, he could finally admit were too demanding for many to handle (the admission still stung and he'd never confess it aloud). In fact, he was a bit amazed that Lucina had lasted so long, as someone nearly as rigid as he. However, she was eventually going to get a place to live, leaving him and his orderly demands to himself.

So, Robin had a final criteria that he kept in his head, too personal to be placed on the official project: the subject must be someone who wouldn't give up and leave him, no matter how dysfunctional he was. Preferably because they were in love or something of that sort.

When Lucina finished reading the project, her brow was furrowed. She could have said any number of things, but all she said was, "Why so particular about health? Not all of those things can be controlled."

"I thought that would be obvious," Robin replied easily. "Such health hazards as smoking, alcohol, and heart or intestinal issues would pose risks to myself, our relationship, and if my plan were to go supremely optimally, future offspring. Nothing particularly personal."

"What about veganism then?"

"Oh. Vegans are just insufferable."

Lucina made a face like she was tasting something bitter. "Very few women take kindly to people telling them how to live their lives."

By this point, Robin could safely conclude that Lucina was not nearly as excited by this breakthrough as he was, and that she possessed a fundamental misunderstanding of the purpose of his project. This irritated him.

"I am not trying to tell anyone to do anything," insisted Robin with crossed arms. "I am trying to find someone- and by all laws of probability, there must be at least several- who fits into this category of one-hundred-percent compatibility. Then we can all be satisfied. It's not hard to grasp."

Lucina's eyes flashed a bit at Robin's tone (typically, Robin struggled to pick up on such cues, but he had quickly learned about Lucina's Look, and could recognize that he needed to scale back his alleged condescension immediately). "And what if you meet this woman, and you do not love her?"

Robin frowned. That made no sense. "Why wouldn't I? That's what this list is for." This was his own self-crafted guide that would aid him to find where love must exist. What if _he_ didn't _love_ her? If the woman fit the criteria, then there was no reason that he shouldn't. Whatever he felt for her had to be what real love felt like. He'd discovered a method to the madness, and he felt quite confident that his hypothesis would prove itself to be correct. He was proud of himself! Lucina simply did not understand.

Robin's companion apparently decided to stop pursuing whatever argument she was formulating, so in Robin's mind, he won this round.

* * *

"…and therefore, it's physically impossible to have a table held up by the weight on it."

"But if the strings were attached in the _center_ of it at the right angle, the mass being pulled up would push down with the same force-"

"It's impossible; it would collapse one way or the other."

Computers whirred and keys clicked. It was now the 28th time Shulk had drummed his fingers against the desk (and it was beginning to feel like they were drumming an indent straight into Robin's occupied brain and if he thought about it much longer it would begin to drive him up the wall).

"What do you know about physics anyway, you know-it-all? You're a geneticist."

"Yoshi, I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but so are you."

"Well at least I'm still taking a Physics _class_ , and I _know_ that a table can be held up by buckets on top of it!" Yoshi's shoes made a squeaky noise against the floor as he bounced his leg up and down. Shulk's fingers drummed a 29th time.

"Stop talking about tables," Robin cut in. The situation was becoming a bit of a stimulus overload, and he needed to focus on writing this research analysis. "We have tasks to accomplish."

"Right, sorry," relinquished Shulk. He turned back to his section of the analysis as Yoshi yelped apologetically and scrambled to return to his duties. Robin turned back around to channel his focus again, but not before he heard Yoshi hiss, " _It's possible."_

" _Get stuffed_ ," muttered Shulk in response.

Now that it was quiet and a working atmosphere had settled once again over the lab space, Robin could now continue to be distracted by the Wife Project unimpeded. He couldn't help but relay possibilities in his head, ranging from how he would go about initiating this project, to what it would be like if it succeeded, to how it could go in the absolute worst direction possible.

"Shulk," he said abruptly.

"Yes?" the ex-Brit looked up. Robin had to muster his dignity to continue speaking.

"You know things about…women."

Yoshi snorted violently. Robin wondered if he was catching a cold.

"Uh," said Shulk knowledgably, "…what d'you mean by that?"

"You seem to know a lot about women," repeated Robin. "You have had relatively successful and stable relationships in the past."

Shulk rolled his eyes, lounging back in his chair. "That seems to be a matter of opinion."

Perhaps he was referencing Fiora. Robin pushed on anyway. "Perhaps. But I suspect you have more knowledge about these kinds of interactions, and I think I may benefit from some points on it."

Shulk sat up, a huge grin spreading across his face. "You're telling me that _you_ want advice from me…about _women_?" Robin scowled in response. Shulk raised his eyebrows. "What brought about this fascinating change in interests?"

"I've…thought about some things."

"Oh," said Yoshi, wiggling his eyebrows. "Does that mean you're in _love_ with someone?"

Shulk gasped, half mockingly. "Ooo, who is she? Have you talked to her?"

"No." Must they? "I said no such thing. I am not in love with anyone. And that would suggest that I have some kind of minimal skill with or understanding of women, which unfortunately I do not." It was frustrating, and he always hated to admit when he wasn't knowledgeable about something. But he'd realized as he created the Wife Project that he had little to go off of, and no good experiment got off the ground without research. Of the people he knew, Shulk seemed to have the highest capabilities. "That is why I am asking you about interacting properly with women."

Shulk's mouth was still twitching up, suggesting amusement (which made Robin feel patronized), but he obliged. "Okay, uh…my top bits of advice…well, for you especially, don't overthink it. If you're trying to meet someone, you need to be the most calm version of yourself. That may be a little hard for you." Robin scowled, and Shulk continued: "Be cool and kind and all that, but be _sincere_. Sure, some women like their men to be lewd and slimy and acting like a bad boy, but the majority of the time that doesn't work out the best. Don't even try to put up an act."

Robin didn't react, mentally taking notes.

"But I know sometimes you can be…er, too sincere."

"It isn't my fault that people are often so offended by truth."

"Well then, as a general rule, if the truth you're going to say suggests that they're doing something in their own life wrong, don't say it. They don't need you to tell them how to live, sometimes even if they ask."

Robin frowned. "Is that not lying by omission?"

"No, it's called being polite. Just comment on other things. Something that interests you both, so that she'll feel, you know, interested. You've just got to be yourself…but not too much."

"That sounds contradictory," Robin informed him shortly.

"Oh yeah, it is, but only for the first few dates. You can start opening up a lot more as things get more serious."

Robin had kind of thought of the whole thing as a matter of dire, deadly seriousness, so this was news to him. News that he was skeptical about, but he had to admit that he was less knowledgeable about this particular subject anyway.

"I see," said Robin. "One should keep more hidden initially to create interest and a thorough acquainting process."

"Yes, something like that. Women tend to enjoy a little mystery."

"Yeah," chimed in Yoshi, wiggling his fingers in a "mystical" way. "They like it when you do mysterious things, like showing up in top hats and flowing elven cloaks. You may want to eat a couple whole onions and perform a disappearing act in the middle of the date, for good measure. Loads of mystery."

Robin thought that sounded extremely bizarre and rather questionable, until Shulk said, "He's only joking, Robin. Shut up, Yoshi."

"Um, excuse me, I know plenty about women," said the college student. "I'll have you know I told a girl I liked her once in fourth grade."

"Yeah? And how'd that turn out?"

"She told me I was ugly and some kid poured his milk on my head."

"You're a master."

"I mean, the lunch lady helped clean me up and told me not to worry because girls are a mystery. She was very nice."

"A wise woman; I can tell her words stick with you to this day."

While he found this conversation intriguing in its own dumb way, Robin wanted to get back on the topic that wasn't about being rejected by women and covered in milk.

"How would I…how would one go about meeting someone?" he asked, feeling annoyed at the apprehension that seeped into his voice. "I think...I fear that-"

"You have struggles with face-to-face interaction," Shulk made it simple. Robin nodded, feeling awkwardness burning in his core. He never dreamed he'd be having a conversation like this, with his flirtatious coworker no less. Discussing his inadequacies was not something he enjoyed and he already half wanted out of the conversation.

"I do not think that I would be successful in any positive interaction with a stranger. Especially one that I find attractive." No point in lying about it. "I also fear that I may be too blunt and say something that one may find offensive."

Shulk closed his eyes with a deep sigh. "I'm reluctant to do this, but I feel like it'll help you a lot with all that anxiety with meeting people, you know, in person."

"Yes?" Did he have a solution?

Shulk held out a hand. "Let me see your phone. It's a smartphone, right?"

Robin nodded, pulling out his phone and handing it to Shulk. He took it and said, "There's a thing you can get on here that eliminates that initial face-to-face phase."

The team leader blinked. Really? On a phone? He thought you had to ask for their number first. "That sounds fascinating."

"Uh-huh." Shulk turned the phone over in his hands. "So Robin…you ever heard of Tinder?"

* * *

 **OK so this story is modern-themed, but I didn't really want to single out any specific time in the modern era. However, I thought of the ending and it amused me too much to not use. So, Robin has created his Wife Project to help his socially inept self find someone 100% compatible to him and his rigid ways, which he is not determined to not let stop him, but find someone who can work with him. Like he said to Lucina, the aim is not to tell anyone what to do, but to help him find The One (TM). Also, Shulk struggles to give his leader some Classy Lady Advice (TM), especially when Yoshi keeps making dumb comments that Robin can't fully understand as jokes. The quote "While he found this conversation intriguing in its own dumb way, Robin wanted to get back on the topic" basically sums up the relationship of the trio as of now. Also, TINDER. We're gonna see how that goes. Now I will ask you a couple things to consider (you can even reply to them in the comments if you want):**

 **Aside from the whole thing about women, is Robin really self-confident? Does he know and trust himself? Also, will the Wife Project work? What is its flaw, or flaws?**

 **Well, I'm impressed you made it this far down the page! Thank you so much for that. Next up, we will see some dating fiascoes, poor Robin. But fear not, because for the next chapter, I believe we are also meeting our leading lady, Rosalina! Thanks again, your face is beautiful, have a wonderful day!**


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